


Goodbye, Brother

by wordstothewisereaders



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bobby always knows what to do, Brotherly Love, Dean finds Sam's Stanford letters, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, SPN - Freeform, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 06:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstothewisereaders/pseuds/wordstothewisereaders
Summary: Throughout the years, Sam and Dean have left each other - whether in death or life -  numerous times. But the first will always be the most heartbreaking. OR The one where Dean finds Sam's college acceptance letters.





	Goodbye, Brother

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this for a long time, so I hope it's worth your while!!

2001

The envelopes bulging from behind a poster on the wall were inconspicuous to the untrained eye, but Dean was an expert at his brother's tendencies. Not to mention the fact that he had been hiding everything from emotions to real objects for all but 4 of his 22 years living. He and Sam had shared a room every time they stayed with Bobby. Two twin beds had been set up in the small room upstairs years ago. The brothers had turned it into their own over their numerous stays, adding posters and other things that their father never would have let them had and argued over when Bobby let them settle. It hadn't changed in a few years since the boys had lost interest in the personalization, so Dean noticed the miniscule difference as soon as he walked in. 

Closing the door behind him, Dean changed out of his oil stained shirt and into a fresh flannel before padding over to the wall, reaching behind the thin paper and plucking out the two rumpled envelopes. He took them back to his own bed, hesitantly opening them. 

Sam had been acting weird ever since Dean first saw the letters. He was fidgety, more anxious than usual. Of course, he and his little brother had some issues due to living the life, but it was nothing they didn't know how to contain. This was different. The whole three weeks they'd been at Bobby's, the younger Winchester was extra jumpy around John, always holing himself up in their room to read or do anything but socialize. It was like he was expecting a disaster that he didn't know how to handle. 

To be fair, he was.

Dean felt slightly guilty about what he was doing, but if this was what was bothering Sam and he had a chance to fix it, then by damn if he was letting it slip by. 

A professional looking letterhead adorned the top of the paper, several paragraphs typed out below it. 

"Mr. Winchester..." Dean read aloud. He scanned the paper, absorbing the words without taking the time to dote on them. He was in a perpetual state of shock by the time he finished. This was Sam's acceptance letter to Stanford. He got a free ride. His brother was leaving him. Dean didn't know what to think. He felt a swelling mix of painful betrayal and a shot of adoring pride. His baby brother, his little Sammy that he'd practically raised by himself, was smart enough to make it into the Ivy League, and he was leaving. 

How could he leave? He'll be happy there, let him go. This is what you wanted for him. He'll get to be normal. He'll go away forever. He's abandoning you for the better option. He actually did it. Smart little bastard, I always knew he had it in him. Dean was beating himself to death with his conflicting thoughts when a throat being cleared made him draw his attention away. 

Sam stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a pissed-off look on his face masking the fear nearly causing him to tremble. 

"The hell is this?" Dean asked, holding the papers up before throwing them back on the bed. 

Sam closed his eyes, wincing. "Dean, I...can we just talk about this first?" 

"You wanna talk? Alright, we'll talk. What are you thinking? Dad's gonna be pissed! He'll beat you all over the place!" Dean said angrily, raising his voice as best he could without being loud enough to hear downstairs, though John was on a case - probably in a bar now because it was so late - and Bobby was no doubt fiddling with an old car out in the garage or asleep in his chair with a football game playing silently in front of him.

"I just-" Sam began.

"You just what, Sam? You just wanted to leave? You just wanted a way out?" Dean asked, beyond his wits in fury. He took a moment to breath, to catch his temper, when he noticed Sam's red eyes, and he stopped. 

"Maybe I do want to get out, Dean! Maybe I'm tired of having my ass dragged all over the place to clean up messes that are not my own without getting a say! Maybe I'm tired of watching my dad beat my brother and I up over something that we didn't chose to get into in the first place!" Sam argued, clenching his fists. He stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn't think he could bear having to drop the bomb on his brother and his father at the same time because of something as reckless as an open door and prying ears.

"So what, you gonna leave me? You going to go off to your preppy little school and take your fancy classes and find a girl to run off and marry and leave me in the damned dust? You're just going to desert me here, no place to go because I'm nowhere near as friggin' smart as you are, to go and get a degree in something that's practically the same thing you're doing with me? With us? Is that what it comes to, after everything?" Dean countered, springing off the bed. 

Sam wilted as Dean's words sunk in after he took a moment to breathe. 

"I didn't ask to go, alright? I didn't...I didn't mean anything by it, D..." Sam mumbled, staring intently at the carpet. 

"What?" Dean asked, snapping his head in Sam's direction. 

"I didn't apply. They asked me. I just...just thought it was a good idea." 

"Dammit, Sam." Dean muttered, rubbing his hands over his face, "When do you leave?" 

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow." Sam answered, shaking his head. "You asked that like you're going to let me go." 

"It's not my decision." Dean said, "Dad's gonna kill you. You know that?"

"Maybe it's about time this happened, Dean. Maybe it's worth getting chewed out to do this. I'm tired of being dragged around like Dad's servant. If you knew what was good for you, you'd come with me. We could be free, D! We could live together! You could work in a garage while I went to school and we wouldn't have to deal with this anymore! We could finally be normal!" Sam pleaded. 

"Yeah? Maybe I don't wanna be normal, Sammy! I've taken the weight of my responsibility. I've accepted it! I'll be damned if you haven't done just the opposite." Dean countered. He never meant the things he told his brother. He never meant to throw the proverbial, harsh truths at Sam that he knew anyways, but the wall protecting all of his emotion, everything he never wanted to let people see he felt, wouldn't let him say what he wanted. He couldn't express how proud he was, how happy that Sam finally found his way out, because he was losing him, too, but eventually he would have to find a way to tell his little brother these things or he could risk losing him for good. 

"I don't want to accept it!" Sam whisper-shouted back, softening, "I just want to live, okay? I'm going to Stanford tomorrow, whether you guys like it or not." 

Dean had to leave after that. He walked right through their bedroom door and down the stairs. Bobby was waiting in the kitchen, leaning expectantly against the counter with a beer in hand. The older Winchester stopped in front of him, averting his gaze to the floor. 

"I guess you heard, huh?" 

"Sure did." Bobby answered calmly. 

"What am I gonna do, Bobby?" Dean asked pathetically. 

"Let him go." he replied, taking a sip from his bottle. 

"What? But what about Dad?" 

"I can handle John if it comes to it. Let him go, Dean. He found his way out. He might have found the escape all of us look for at one time or another. You can't possibly be mad at the kid for finding himself?" Bobby explained, remaining calm.

"I'm not. God, I'm not. I'm so proud of him, Bobby. He made it into friggin' Stanford. How can I not be happy for him? I'm gonna miss him, though. Life ain't the same without having to look after him." Dean shook his head. 

"I agree, but one of you Winchesters is enough to look after. He knows his way around. It's not like he's dying, boy." Bobby said. 

"He asked me to go with him." Dean laughed sadly. "He actually believes he can get us both out. What am I gonna do?" 

"Right now? You're going to take a breather. Get some rest and sleep on it. Ain't nothing a little bit of shut-eye can't fix. Tomorrow you're going to take your brother to California after we tell your daddy. And you're gonna make sure Sam knows how proud you are of him before you drop him off." Bobby said. 

"Okay...Alright, maybe you're right." Dean sighed tiredly. 

"'Course I am. Now go get some rest." Bobby commanded, patting him on the back. 

Dean slept on the couch that night, though he just barely got two hours of sleep. He heard John come home around 3 am, stomping up the stairs and slamming the door to his room. Dean flinched at the loud noise, knowing what was to come. That didn't faze his determination to get Sam to college. He wasn't sure that anything could.

***

Looking back on it many, many years later, Dean would have described that morning as literal Hell - that is, if he hadn't taken his tour of it before. There was a nearly silent breakfast followed by loud, heated arguments closely moderated (or interefered with) by Bobby. It didn't take long for John to kick Sam out, telling him he could go to his private Ivy League school but he damned sure better not expect him to pay for any of it. 

Dean helped Sam pack afterwards, making sure to keep out of their father's sight. Sam bid Bobby a heartbreaking farewell, promising to visit as often as he could and to call even more. 

They pulled out of the driveway in the Impala, Sam fuming and teary-eyed in the passenger seat. Neither had hardly anything to say. All that broke the silence was the roar of the engine and the sound of outdated cassette tapes. 

*** 

It took two days to get to Stanford. When they pulled up to the large school, Dean was surprised by the towering buildings surrounding him. He didn't know what he expected, given it was Ivy League. He hated to admit it, but it was pretty beautiful.

Sam unloaded his things as quickly as he could, moving them into the apartment (which was really supposed to be a dorm, but he felt was too nice to be called so) the school had provided him. It was nice, fully furnished. Dean was impressed. 

They returned to the car nearly half an hour later to find that everything had been taken inside. Sam turned to Dean. 

"Well, I guess this is it, then." Dean said reluctantly. 

"I guess." Sam responded, staring at his shoes. 

"Look, Sammy, I just...You know I'm proud of you, right? Because I am. I'm prouder than I ever have been. I didn't mean what I said last night. I- I'm proud of you." Dean explained shakily. "I mean it."

"Thanks, D." Sam mumbled. 

"Alright, c'mere." Dean said, pulling Sam towards him. 

They clung to each other like little kids, holding on like they'd never see the other again. It was the most sentimental moment they'd had yet. 

Dean pulled back first, tears in his eyes, "Enough of the chick-flick moment. You take care of yourself, Sammy." 

"You, too, D." Sam said, wiping furiously at his eyes. 

"Goodbye, brother." 

Sam nodded stiffly, clutching at his backpack strap with white knuckles. He turned, heading back towards his apartment with reluctant steps. 

Dean watched his little brother leave him before getting back in the car and heading back to South Dakota. It was the first of many times to come that he would leave his brother, or watch his brother leave him, only to be reunited. Because, you know, the Winchesters will always find their way back to each other.

***

2005

Sam jabbed and kicked at the mysterious figure confronting him, leading him throughout his apartment. He used every technique his father and brother had taught him effortlessly. 

They sparred for what felt like an awful lot of time without gaining any leeway. Then, taking him completely by surprise, he was being flipped onto the ground on his back. The figure loomed over him before its heartbreakingly familiar voice spoke. 

"Woah, easy, tiger."


End file.
